Total Drama Junkyard
by Sonowa
Summary: Twenty-one newcomers and one surprising veteran compete in the most dangerous and dirty challenges yet! Who will come out on top, and who will join the rest of the garbage? A spin-off of Janey1097's TDI, Season 2!
1. Day 1, Part 1: I Loathe Lucy

**Author's Note: The rights and reservations of the Total Drama series are primarily owned by Teletoon and Fresh TV, as are the characters of Chris McLean and Chef Hatchet. The twenty-two new contestants and the location are entirely original, and any comparisons to real-life people are coincidental.**

**The following is a spin-off of Janey1097's **_**TDI, Season 2!**_** While prior knowledge is not necessary, it may help you to give it a scan for some backstory (I must agree with the author that it has not aged as well as her other stories, though it still beats about eighty-five percent of what else you'll find here).**

* * *

The camera opened to a shot that would make most wince in disgust. A gigantic junkyard stood in the middle of a metropolitan area, towers of garbage on each side. Tires, old computers, and VCRs were scattered on the ground, patrolled by ferocious-looking guard dogs. Oddly enough, a pair of rickety shacks also stood in the midst, though they appeared to be in just as bad a shape as the other contents of the junkyard.

Of course, the object in the junkyard that would make the viewing audience wince the most would be Chris McLean, who quickly flashed his infamous grin.

"You're looking at one of the most disgusting, trash-filled junk heaps in all of Canada, where few would dare to enter, and nobody would ever want to live. Of course, that's the exact reason why we've chosen it for the next location of the Total Drama series!

"We've got twenty-one... excuse me, twenty-_two_ new competitors for this season, each of them ready to get at each other's throats for the sake of our grand prize; a hundred grand, cash, tax-free. But it's not gonna be easy; they'll have to survive dangerous challenges, dangerous meals, and the biggest danger of them all - each other - if they want to stand a chance here.

"But now, it's time to see who'll be competing, and get this latest season underway. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome... to Total!

"Drama!

"_Junkyard!_"

* * *

During the conveniently-placed theme song montage, Chris had relocated himself to the front of the junkyard. Surprisingly, the weather was rather nice for the occasion, with a good amount of sunshine and a slight breeze. A few miles over stood a large black cloud over Camp Wawanakwa, much to both the surprise and the glee of the host.

"Welcome back to Total Drama Junkyard. Our twenty-two competitors will be showing up via limousine, so if they're having a tough time with the transition to their new home, we're doing our job right. Speaking of which, here comes our first worker!"

The limousine's door opened to reveal an excited-looking young man with a buzzcut. His eager brown eyes darted around the junkyard's entrance, which coupled with his near-manic grin made Chris more than a little uncomfortable. The boy wore a striped red t-shirt, a pair of shorts, and a pair of tennis shoes.

"Oh... goodnesh... gracioush," the young man said, his verbal tic in full swing. "It'sh really you! Chrishtopher McLean... it'sh an honor and privilege to be able to shee you in pershon like thish!"

"Welcome aboard, Howie," the host greeted. "Make yourself comfortable around here, but no peeking before the others."

Howie did not move.

"Um... you doin' okay, dude?"

"I'm shorry, it'sh jusht... I've never been sho ecshited!" Howie exclaimed. "Do you realizhe that I've been doing intenshive reshearch on thish show for yearsh now, and I'm finally going to take part in an official sheashon?"

"Living the dream, aren't we," Chris muttered, trying to push the young man to the side.

As Chef Hatchet was called to pry away Howie from the host's personal space, the second limousine arrived, dropping off a large capsule-like object with a metallic surface. A small glass window was near what was technically the front of the machine, where a furious-looking woman's face was exposed. Her eyes were extremely narrow, though a faint trace of red emerged when the sun's rays caught it just right. A blue wool hat covered a majority of her hair, save for a few white locks that went down the sides.

"Everything fine, Lorelei?" Chris asked the machine.

"Didn't ask you," she grumbled, her voice echoing through the machine.

Lorelei pressed an unseen button, and a small set of wheels popped out from the bottom, letting her navigate to where Howie was moved.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintanche," Howie said with a wave.

"Don't talk to me," Lorelei grumbled in return.

Surprisingly, no limousine came, but the third worker simply approached the host from the sidewalk, holding herself up with a large stick. Her dirty-blonde hair sat atop her head in no particular fashion, giving her a slightly boyish look to match her tired-looking brown eyes. Her outfit, if you could call it that, was nothing more than an oversized brown tunic and a pair of brown work boots.

"Looks like you're in the running for most surprising entrance, Sheba," Chris said. "Why wouldn't you take the limousine ride?"

"Eh. I never really trusted those things, if you can believe it," Sheba said with a half-smile. "These legs have gotten me around for so long, it'd be a sin to just rely on something else to do the deed, no matter how short."

Chris gave a kind-hearted laugh, a rare sight from the host. "Guess that means you'll be more than ready for whatever we've got to hand you, then."

Sheba nodded as she paced her way to Lorelei's side, holding the stick with both hands.

"Nice machine," Sheba commented.

"You don't mean that," Lorelei mumbled. "You're just trying to get on my good side. Well, here's a free piece of advice; I don't have a good side. Now leave me alone."

Sheba raised an eyebrow. "Being a hardass won't win you many friends, you know."

Lorelei scoffed. "If I wanted friends, I'd have joined a different show. I'm here for the money, kid, and you know just as well that you are, too. Now, again, leave me alone."

The stick-wielder shook her head, but complied to Lorelei's demands.

Another limousine approached, and out stepped not one but three young men, who seemed to be related. The two smaller brothers were chatting idly, one in a red suit with a goatee, the other in a green suit with some stubble. Both of them had a strange slick to their hair, as if they had put grease in it to make it stick.

The third brother was quieter, but also much taller. His suit was a bright yellow, though unlike the brothers, he did not have a beard of any sort, instead settling on a modest mustache. His hair was also more unkempt, most likely because he didn't use any grease. All three of the brothers had quick hazel eyes, though the red-suited one's eyebrows were lowered, the green-suited somewhat sympathetic, and the yellow-suited relatively unemotional.

"The Verano brothers in the flesh! Ron, Reg, Franky, how are you doing?" Chris greeted.

"Hey, let me tell you, you might wanna just call the contest off right now, because the boys and me are gonna give 'em a licking they won't forget anytime soon," Ron, the one in red, said. "Ain't that right, boys?"

"Sure thing, boss! We'll knock 'em down a peg!" Reg, the one in green, replied.

Franky did not respond.

"Um... please excuse my little brother here. He's a bit new," Ron apologized to the host before turning his head up. "Oi, Franky! Show some respect when your boss is speaking! You're as yellow as that suit of yers!"

Franky blinked a few times. "What? Oh, right. Sure thing, boss. Teamwork and all that," the youngest brother said half-heartedly.

"Reg, somethin' tells me we need to give Franky a bit of a lesson later today, get the hint?" Ron asked his same-sized sibling.

"Yeah, I got ya, boss," Reg replied. "Um... but are we allowed to give him a lesson on public television?"

"I'm still here, you know," Franky said, tapping his foot impatiently. "The least you could do is wait until I'm gone before you start talking about how much you're going to beat me up."

Ron's face turned red. "Franky. You listen, and you listen good. I know you're new to the family, but never, under _any_ circumstances, address your boss without respect. You understand?"

Franky sighed, but gave a slight nod.

"Good. Now then, let's find us a place to wait for the other suckers to come in," Ron said, waddling over near Howie. Reg and Franky followed suit, one much more enthusiastic than the other.

As the brothers left, the next limousine arrived, carrying a young woman with a comically large chef's hat on her head, making her leave from the vehicle a bit awkward. The young woman was clearly flustered, her hazel eyes blinking rapidly and sweat pouring down her head, dodging her brunette bangs. She wore a maroon sweatshirt with a large white apron over it, which also covered a majority of her blue jeans and tennis shoes.

"Nice to have you hear, Sammy," Chris said with a nod. "I take it you are aware of your recent update to your contract, right?"

"Update?" Sammy asked. "What update?"

"Well, the thing is, the higher-ups are a little worried that just being a good chef isn't enough to make you work well with the viewers, so we struck a deal. You've got to say at least one food-related pun a day, otherwise... you're out of here."

Sammy's eyebrows skyrocketed. "What? Food isn't a joke to me, Chris, it's my life. I'm not going to just garnish... I mean, tarnish it just for the sake of some prize money!"

Chris grinned.

"...Please don't tell me that counted."

"It sure did!"

Sammy slapped her face as she went over near Sheba, though she took a double-take as she passed Lorelei.

"Um," she began.

"Trust me, you don't want to ask," Sheba responded. "Something tells me it'll be easier to not know in this case."

"I'll take your word for it," Sammy said, casting another glance at the machine.

Meanwhile, another limousine dropped off another female contestant with an exceptionally curvy figure, much to the excitement of a few of the boys who had arrived. Her hair was brunette, shoulder-length, barely touching the dark-blue windbreaker she had on. She also wore a white tube top that surprisingly didn't show any cleavage, a pair of modest shorts, and a pair of dark brown sandals.

"Aren't you familiar with the phrase 'flaunt 'em if you've got 'em', Topaz?" Chris asked.

"All too well," Topaz responded as she rolled her eyes. "So I have big boobs, great. It doesn't mean I need to draw attention to them all the time."

"Even though you just did?"

Topaz responded with a quick slap to the face as she walked away, fuming.

"If it makes you feel any better, he tricked me as well," Sammy commented, though Topaz didn't seem to notice.

Again, a limousine came by, though voices could be heard even within.

"Well, this ought to be interesting," Sheba mumbled, adjusting her grip on her stick.

"-and now you know just how serious I'll be. Bark like the bitch that you are, bitch!" a sharp woman's voice yelled.

The unmistakable sound of a whipcrack sent shock waves through the air as a howl of pain echoed from the limousine's interior.

"That's better. Now drive off back to your pathetic home, you sniveling worm! I never want to see your sorry face again!"

With that, the mysterious woman exited the car. A beehive of red hair sat on her head as her black eyes looked over the rest of the members. Her outfit was completely made of black leather, even including a pair of gloves; only her face remained uncovered. In her right hand she held what the other contestants predicted; an extremely large bullwhip.

"Lucy," Chris remarked with a finger-point. "Great to have you he-"

The host could not finish his sentence, as he was interrupted by a crack to the face.

"Who said that you could call me by my name, you miserable cockroach?" Lucy sneered, a frightening grin spreading across her face. "You'll be able to call me that when and only when I tell you; otherwise, you're going to call me master, and I'm going to call you my bitch!"

A chorus of "ooohs" resonated from the other contestants (save, of course, for Lorelei).

"Do not speak unless spoken to!" Lucy shouted, cracking her whip once again. "I'll have you learn respect the hard way, you slugs. Make a mistake, and you'll be joining that mangy mutt as another bitch. Understand?"

Nods.

"Better."

With that, Lucy whipped Chris once again.

"Get up, you putrid slimeball. I'm feeling generous, so you're off the hook this time."

Chris dusted himself off as he got up, his eyes wide with fright.

"Duly noted," he whispered when she was out of reach. Lucy raised one of her thick eyebrows momentarily, though kept walking afterwards.

Fortunately, another limousine arrived to reduce the elephant in the room. A sharp-dressed young man stepped out, wearing a top coat with a white long-sleeved undershirt, matching slacks and shoes, and a stylish top hat. A pair of circular sunglasses covered his eyes.

"Nice to have you here, Louis," Chris said, grateful that he was guaranteed to not be whipped twice in one hour.

Louis nodded, before reaching back into the limousine to pull out a somewhat faded saxophone. He played a few practice notes on it before removing the mouthpiece for a spit-shine.

"Looksh like a mushician," Howie commented.

"No doubt. He's quiet, though; probably likes to communicate through song more than anything," Topaz added. "I guess he's a jazzman, from the looks of it."

Topaz's guess was confirmed as a soulful melody burst from Louis' saxophone.

The song continued to play as the halfway point was reached. Out from the next limousine stepped a young woman with a fairly athletic build, though she was far from being as busty as the likes of Topaz. Her raven-colored hair was tied in a loose ponytail, though a good amount of it also spread across the rest of her scalp. Her brown eyes had a sort of cheerfulness to them, matched well by her wry smile. She wore an off-white sweatshirt, a pair of black exercise shorts, and a modest pair of running shoes.

"Foxglove St. Claire, ready and willing," the girl said with a wave. "Hope you guys are ready to play some hardball, 'cause I'm not holding back!"

"Oooh, I like this one," Sheba said, unable to hold back a wide smile of her own.

"You're not bad yourself," Foxglove commented as she jogged towards the smaller girl. "A bit of a tomboy, are you?"

"Well... let's just say I'm quite used to playing with the big boys," Sheba responded, looking a bit less excited. "It's a long story, and to be frank, I don't think I'll be able to tell it when _she's_ around here," she finished, jerking a thumb towards Lucy.

"Well, enemy of my enemy and all that. Here's hoping we're on the same team," Foxglove said with a thumbs-up.

"Knowing Chris, something tells me you've just jinxed it," Sheba replied, looking back at the front of the junkyard. Foxglove cupped her chin in suspicion, unsure of if her new friend was joking or not.

As Louis' tune died out, the next limousine arrived, and a bored-looking young woman stepped out. Her eyes were a dull blue, showing no emotion whatsoever. Her blonde hair was parted to the sides of her head, only being adjusted when it got stuck in the young woman's face. Even her outfit was unexciting; a solid black t-shirt, a pair of brown jeans, and two bland sandals.

"Welcome to the competition, Meredith," Chris said, back in his role of greeter. "How was the trip?"

Meredith blinked.

"...You okay, dude?"

"Yes, I'm okay," Meredith responded, her voice as monotonous as the rest of her. "I was simply ignoring the question so as to avoid giving away anything. I know your tactics, Mr. McLean, and I will not fall for them. This is a reality show, and I intend to prove that, like all reality shows, there is one true way to win it."

With that, Meredith meandered over to the rest of the group, getting more than a few odd stares from the rest of the cast.

"Listen, boys, she's nothin' but bad news," Ron muttered to his brothers. "Don't give her any trust at all."

"You bet, boss!" Reg replied.

"Mmm," Franky grunted, still uninterested.

The next limousine came and went, leaving a wild-haired young man with a jovial grin and a pair of excited brown eyes. He wore a coffee-colored shirt with long sleeves, cargo shorts, and for some reason a pair of bright pink bunny slippers.

"Great to have you here, Tom," Chris greeted, offering a high-five.

"No, sir, it's great to BE here!" Tom said in reply, accepting the high-five. "It's been far too long since I've faced some real danger, and I know you're just the man who can dish it out!"

"I'm flattered, really," the host said with a slight laugh. "Finally, someone who can appreciate the hard work we put into our death traps."

"Believe me, I've tried, but you're the master of the art," Tom said, joining the rest of the competitors before stopping next to Lucy.

"A whip, eh? You just might be what I've been looking for, my friend!" the daredevil mentioned with a hearty laugh.

"Don't speak out of line, you insolent scum!" Lucy shouted, cracking the whip at Tom. The daredevil smirked, leaping out of harm's way.

"You've gotta try a little harder than that if you want to take me down!" Tom said, more joyous than insulting.

Lucy's eyebrows furrowed. "You may have escaped momentarily, but you'll soon learn to show some respect. It's not a matter of if you're a bitch... but when."

As Tom moved back in with the crowd, the fourteenth limousine came, carrying a taller boy with a long-billed white baseball cap, a large red "P" stitched onto the front of it. A smirk crossed his face as he walked forward, his blue eyes giving a mischievous vibe as his eyebrows danced around. His get-up was relatively predictable; a striped baseball jersey with the number "43" on its back, a pair of sweatshorts, and two short-spiked cleats.

"The name's Bastion. I'm sure you'll remember it for a long while," the boy said, tipping his hat to show his black hair.

"Care to explain why?" Sheba asked.

Bastion gave a sinister chuckle. "Because it'll be perfect, just like everything else I do. This is all a big game, right? Well, let me tell ya somethin'; if it's a game, I'll be the one who ends up on top, no questions asked. You might as well just drop out right now before you hurt yourselves!"

Bastion paced forward confidently, stopping to wink at Topaz, who winced in disgust.

"Is he honestly trying to flirt with you?" Foxglove said with her arms crossed. "God, what a freak."

"Couldn't say it better myself," Topaz agreed. "All I know if that his hands even get remotely close to my boobs, he won't be using them for a lot longer."

"Ha ha, nice!" Foxglove complimented with a fist-bump. "Hey, maybe you, Sheba, and I will all be on the same team! That'd be cool."

"Yeah, but you heard what she said; Chris always plans ahead, so he'll have us separated for sure. Guess we've just gotta last until the merge, huh?"

"I'm in. Sheba?" Foxglove turned to her other friend.

"Yeah, sounds good," she agreed, though her thoughts were clearly somewhere else.

Meanwhile, the latest limousine arrived, and a plain-looking young woman stepped out, making sure to close the door on the way. Her orange hair was converted into a pair of braided pigtails which bounced as she stepped forward, her green eyes half-awake as if she would fall asleep at any moment. She wore a lime-green t-shirt with an orange star on it, a plaid skirt that dropped down to her knees, and a pair of long white socks that met two brown slip-on shoes.

"Good to see you, Ellen," Chris said with a half-wave. "Anything to say to your soon-to-be rivals?"

"No, not really!" Ellen chirped, skipping off to join the crowd. Chris scratched his scalp in confusion.

"Shay... you look shurprishingly shimilar to shomebody I think I've sheen onshe..." Howie uttered as Ellen approached him.

"Oh... well, uh, if that's the case, you're probably mistaken!" the girl responded, though she appeared a bit frazzled. "I'm just a boring, ordinary girl, wanting to get some excitement out of life through some competition! That's me!"

Howie's eyebrows lowered, though his eyes were still wide. "If you shay sho. I shtill think I've sheen you, though, and if I remember, you shpill your shecretsh. Not to everybody, but at leasht to me. You can trusht me, right?"

Ellen hesitated to answer as she stared at Howie's trembling eyes.

Fortunately, she was interrupted when another limousine approached, with a young man standing on top of the hood. A pair of rectangular sunglasses rested over his eyes, though they were far from able to compliment his shaggy brown hair. He wore an open purple jacket with no undershirt, promoting a necklace with a bomb-shaped medallion. He also donned some hole-ridden jean shorts and a pair of sandals.

The young man leaped off the moving vehicle, landing semi-gracefully. He snapped his fingers, and the limousine (now a few meters off) shattered with a powerful explosion. The boy removed his sunglasses, somehow revealing an identical pair underneath, and tossed them behind.

"Way to make an entrance, Arnold!" Chris said as he clapped his hands. "Guess it's safe to say you're the bomb?"

"Heard 'em all before," Arnold responded. "Puns don't make the man. Explosions do."

"I can get behind that one!" Tom commented with a hearty laugh, his blond hair now dusted in black soot from the explosion's shock waves. "Life with you's gonna be a blast!"

"As I said, heard 'em all before," Arnold repeated, snapping his fingers again as a nearby construction site suffered a minor explosion. The pyrotechnician threw another pair of sunglasses onto what remained of the site.

"How does he DO that..." Tom whispered, awe-struck.

As the rest of the cast dusted themselves off, the next limousine left a tall, dark-skinned teenager. Her facial features - serious dark-brown eyes, a crooked nose, an emotionless mouth - were highlighted by the fact that she was entirely bald, though it helped in showing off a large pair of hoop earrings that drooped from her lobes. Also odd was her choice of attire- she wore a large, off-white robe, which she consistently adjusted. She wore no shoes.

"Looking sharp, Angela," Chris greeted. "Care to enlighten us on why you look like that?"

Angela's eyebrows twitched. "Enlightening is far from what you will be receiving. Enlightenment can only be reached through meditation, and meditation can only be perfected through balance."

She clapped her hands together, raising them above her head. "Through many years I have maintained this balance and reached a higher level of meditation, far beyond the imaginations of my ancestors. For you to reach this enlightenment in mere moments is unthinkable."

"Well, fine. Rub it in, why don't you," Chris grumbled, clearly peeved. "What makes that enlightenment so incredible, anyways?"

Angela's mouth formed the faintest trace of a grin as she sat on the ground, closing her eyes and maintaining lotus position.

Miraculously, she managed to float several feet above the ground, moving forwards to the sixteen other contestants.

"What... but..." Sammy stuttered.

"Do not worry, child," Angela replied. "What you see before you is merely an illusion created through harnessing the powers of meditation. It shall disappear soon."

"Can it be quick? I'm really unsure about talking with someone who doesn't move her mouth."

"As you wish."

With that, Angela reverted to her normal state, or at least as normal as she got.

"Feh. That ain't anything compared to what I can do," Bastion bragged before getting socked in the face by Foxglove.

As the jock tended to his bruised nose, a young man departed the latest limousine. He had a mousy look to him, with grey eyes, patches of hair that lost any real color it had, and a pair of thin, round spectacles that rested on the tip of his small nose. His loud, cyan t-shirt proudly proclaimed "WORLD'S BEST WORST" in purple, much to the confusion of the other workers; aside from that, he wore a set of hideous bermuda shorts and a mismatched pair of flip-flops.

"Isaac! Welcome to Total Drama Junkyard!" Chris said, raising his arms to indicate the (nonexistent) grandeur of the location.

Isaac stared at the site for a few minutes. "No... no, 'snot a yard. You... you said it's... it's a yard?"

"A junkyard, yeah."

Isaac's eyes twitched as he put his hands on his head; he seemed to be writhing in agony.

"No, no, yards have swings. There are no swings. Where are the swings. Swings, slides, children... not here, not a yard, _not a yard_!"

"Slow down there, kid," Topaz spoke. "There's a difference between a yard and a junkyard. It's perfectly normal for there to not be any swings."

Isaac's hands lowered as he gazed at Topaz.

"You... you mean it? It's... it's not a yard? Then... why did he say it was? Why did he lie? Liars are bad. Can't trust then, won't trust them..."

Topaz gave a kindhearted laugh. "Well, if you already don't trust Chris McLean, I think you're on the right track. C'mon, let's head back to the entrance so we can chat."

"I'm right here, you know..." Chris muttered, pouting his lips.

While Chris attended to his wounded ego, the next worker arrived. She was a fair-faced young woman with green eyes and a bright smile, whose dark-blonde hair waved around in the breeze revealing a small pair of orb-shaped earrings. She wore a light-grey sweatshirt, a pair of preworn jeans, and sandals, though she also wore socks to protect her feet.

"Jane!" Foxglove shouted, running forwards to hug the newcomer. "God, I'm glad you made it all right."

"I take it you two know each other?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, we're best friends," Foxglove replied. "You wanna introduce yourself, Jane?"

Jane nodded, and proceeded to move her hands and arms in an elaborate fashion.

"Hey, what is this, charades?" Bastion complained.

"It's sign language, smartass," Foxglove said with a sigh. "She says it's nice to be here... and that you, Bastion, should try to work harder on your social skills. Well put, Jane."

"Wait, how did she know what Bastion said?" Ellen spoke up.

"She's mute, not deaf," Foxglove responded. "If anything, I bet she can probably hear better than the rest of us!"

Jane rubbed the back of her head sheepishly as she proceeded to the rest of the cast. Louis gave her a thumbs-up, supportive of another silent contestant. Jane gave him one of her own in response.

Another contestant arrived, following Sheba's example by walking up instead of taking the traditional limousine. His brown eyes were bloodshot and half-open, leaving him about as messy as the curly black hair on his head. His dark skin was semi-complemented by a dusty red shirt, and an even dustier pair of black slacks. The brown shoes he wore weren't in much better shape.

"Another walker, eh, Zachary?" Chris asked semi-smugly.

"Booted out. Driver said he didn't want to ruin his ride. Of course, with him driving, it already was," Zachary muttered. A few of the other workers chuckled.

"Life hard in the streets?" Sheba spoke up.

"Looks like we've got a real contender for the coveted 'most obvious answer to the most obvious question' award," Zachary replied, not missing a beat. "Is there any other reason I would go to this hellhole other than escaping the one I'm from?"

"Cash money," Sammy said.

"Sweet, sweet victory," Bastion said, pumping his fist.

"The shenshation of following in the path of your idolsh..." Howie said dreamily.

Zachary cocked an eyebrow. "Well, from the looks of it, this'll be the easiest mint I've made yet."

As the next limousine came and went, a very shy young woman exited, her eyes widening at the sight of the twenty other contestants. Her blue eyes, covered by a thin pair of round glasses, widened at the sight, and her relatively long light-blonde hair practically stood on end. She cowered in fear, clutching her knees close to her.

"Um... my part of the deal really doesn't involve things like this," Chris spoke, looking more than a little confused. "Could someone handle this? Chef, maybe?"

"I'm not a damn nanny!" the large man called out from within the junkyard. "Do your own dirty work!"

Both men, however, ignored the person who did approach her.

"Hi. I know you must be uncomfortable, but would you mind telling me what's going on?" the person asked.

"It's... so many people. I'm not... comfortable with them... all watching me, all expecting something of me, and if I do something wrong, I'll just... I'll just...!"

"Shhh, it's okay. Look up for me, could you? Just look at me, and me alone. There's not gonna be anyone else here."

The newcomer shook slightly, and glanced up at none other than Franky, who gave her a warm smile.

"See, now it's just me. Just focus on that, and you'll be fine. All right?"

"All... all right..." the newcomer replied, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. As she stands, her outfit is revealed; a modest yellow sundress decorated with roses, flesh-colored stockings, and a pair of simple black flats.

"My name's Franky, by the way. I'm afraid I didn't catch yours."

"It's Largo... Largo Young," she said. "It's... very nice to meet you... Franky."

Franky grinned. "Nice to meet you, too."

As they walked back to join the rest of the cast, Ron grabbed Franky's cuff and dragged him downwards.

"Look here, lover boy. I'm not sure what went through that melon of yours, but you follow the boss first, and your gut second. I don't want to see you anywhere close to that dame, and if I do, you can bet that I'll have your sorry ass off of here before she can finish a sentence," the older brother threatened. "Sound good?"

Franky shook off his brother, not bothering to answer.

"Well, looks like everybody's here, then!" Chris said, back in his best authoritative voice.

"Not likely," Meredith's monotone voice chimed in. "You've specifically stated that twenty-two contestants will compete, while you have introduced only twenty-one. Where is the last contestant?"

"That would be me," an unknown voice said from atop a junk pile.

The contestants looked up to see a lanky young man with brown hair, divided into widely-arced spikes. A pair of incredibly thick, rectangular spectacles rested on his nose, covering his hazel eyes. The boy wore a tan greatcoat over a solid black shirt, a pair of khaki pants, and two incredibly worn-out black shoes. His arms were crossed as the breeze blew his coattails around; save for his pale complexion, horrid shoes, and geeky glasses, some may have said he looked cool.

"Mine is the name that you shall learn to soon fear!" the newcomer shouted. "My presence shall turn this entire game on its head before it even begins! Look upon me, contestants, for I am-"

It was at this time, unfortunately, that the young man's grip on the pile was lost.

"_Shit!"_ he shouted as he tumbled to the ground, landing flat on his face.

"What do you know. You _are_ shit," Bastion snickered.

"Everyone, this is-"

"Oh my goodnesh gracioush it'sh actually you I can't believe it!" Howie said in a single breath. "You're Raphael R. Forresht, the conteshtant who wash conshistently bombarded with dodge ballsh and who placed ninth overall in an unaired sheashon of Total Drama Island!"

"That was supposed to be a surprise, Howie," Chris grumbled, still peeved that he was interrupted yet again. "But hey, can't change things now. You doin' all right, Raphael?"

"Oh, don't mind me," Raphael replied, his voice muffled by the dirty ground. "I'm simply learning about all the myriad ways there are to humiliate yourself on national television."

"International, dumbass," Lucy said before whipping the veteran.

"All right, workers, get in position; we've got a promotional picture to take!" Chris announced.

The contestants meandered over to the center of the junkyard, though Zachary stopped near where Raphael had fallen.

"Hey, between you and me, you were pretty badass up there," the slumdog mentioned.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Your performance was bad, and you looked like an ass."

"Eh. I've heard worse."

"Hey, Zack, get your butt over here! And bring Raphael with you!" the host shouted.

Zachary rolled his eyes, but offered a hand to the fallen Raphael. As the veteran grabbed it, he was not brought to his feet as he expected, but was simply dragged along as Zachary jogged to where everyone else was.

"All right, get in position... okay! Smile for the news sites!"

Chris' camera flashed, and the workers looked around in anxious anticipation for a full minute.

"Huh. Could've sworn something embarrassing would have happened to you guys by now," Chris commented. "Doesn't matter. Just follow me, workers; it's gonna be a long season!"

* * *

The Promotional Picture

**Top Row**

- Bastion attempts to look down Topaz's tube top as he gives a perverted grin.

- Jane sits on Foxglove's shoulders, giving a big smile and a wave to the camera.

**Middle Row**

- Zachary looks at the camera in complete seriousness, unaware that Topaz was giving him bunny ears.

- Topaz gives a raspberry and a wink, making bunny ears over Zachary and holding Isaac's shoulder.

- Isaac peers at Topaz with both fear and respect, though his hands are clenched together in a display of anxiousness.

- Lucy grins evilly, raising her bullwhip to the sky.

- A jovial Tom pumps a fist in the air as he gives another massive grin.

- Angela stands with her hands clasped together in a meditative pose; unsurprisingly, she manages to maneuver herself directly in the middle of the photo.

- Arnold frowns at the camera; in his hands you can barely see another pair of sunglasses.

- Foxglove balances Jane on her shoulders as she smiles to the camera.

- Ellen looks around nervously, as if someone had just confessed to a secret that she has.

- Franky rests a hand on Largo's shoulder, staring at her with a small smile.

- Lorelei's capsule stands strong. Lorelei herself still looks incredibly angry.

**Bottom Row**

- Raphael, his face still in the ground, gives an incredibly sarcastic thumbs-up to the camera.

- Howie gives a manic grin, his eyes especially wide.

- Sammy looks a little defeated as she tries to rub a dirt smudge off of her apron.

- Louis plays his saxophone as he sits on the ground.

- Meredith looks at the camera dead-on, her stoic look unchanged.

- Sheba supports herself with her stick as she gives a half-smile to the camera.

- Largo peers up at Franky, still blushing.

- Ron glares at his youngest brother, arms crossed in defiance.

- Reg scratches his head, slightly upset at the clash between his brothers.

* * *

**Author's Note: And so it begins! If this looks familiar, it's because it's a reboot of an earlier story of mine that I wasn't at all satisfied with. Here's hoping this time things go better!**

**While Raphael is, admittedly, kind of the focus of the story, don't worry; every worker will have some time in the limelight, and Raphael's veteran status won't make him any more or less susceptible to the tricks of the others.**

**I thank you very much for reading, and urge you again to check out the works of Janey1097 if you haven't already.**


	2. Day 1, Part 2: Down in the Dumpster

**Author's Note: For future reference, any time Jane communicates through sign language, it will be ****underlined****. Confessionals will be written in script format, and words between slashes (e.g. /I write this sentence./) indicate an action being performed by that person.**

* * *

The twenty-two workers stood in the middle of the junkyard, next to the shacks.

"All right, contestants, you should know the drill by now," Chris announced. "Time to form teams! When I call your name, move on over to the left.

"The first worker is... Lorelei!"

The ice queen maneuvered her clunky machine to where Chris designated.

"Howie... and Raphael!"

Raphael covered his face in annoyance, knowing full well that the uberfan would consistently berate him.

"Jane and Foxglove. Don't tell me I never did you guys any favors!"

Foxglove let out a sigh of relief as she accompanied her friend to where the three others stood.

"Louis, get over there!"

The jazzman nodded as he dismantled his saxophone.

"Tom."

"Ha ha, all right!" Tom bellowed as he made his way to his future teammates. "This is gonna be fun, isn't it guys?"

"Never speak to me again," Lorelei grumbled. Tom looked taken aback for about a millisecond before returning to his jovial self.

"Now, don't be like that. It'll be great! All sorts of dangerous adventures await us, and we're gonna make it all the way to the top, together!"

Tom attempted to wrap an arm around Lorelei in a friendly gesture, though it was removed soon afterwards.

"You just touched a machine designated to cryogenically freezing," Lorelei muttered. "I bet you were trying to dismantle it and get me out early. God, you're all the same..."

"Ellen, Sammy, you're up next!" Chris called, thankfully interrupting the situation.

The two girls exchanged small smiles.

"Bastion!"

The jock grumbled as he shuffled to the others.

"And finally... Franky!"

The youngest brother gave a half-fist pump as he jogged to the other workers.

"Hey... what the hell are you trying to pull here?" Ron shouted. "You can't just tear apart a family like that. You got that mute chick with her translator, didn't ya?"

"Watch your mouth, asshole," Foxglove threatened.

"Hey, I think the teams are pretty even this season, if I say so myself," Chris said with a little too much pride. "After all, you're still with one of your brothers, and I even went so far as to make it so that both of the cynics aren't on the same team!"

"I resent that," Zachary and Raphael responded simultaneously.

"But if that's the case, why did you put both people who don't speak on the same group?" Ellen asked.

"Oh, that's because we didn't want both people with sunglasses on the same team."

"Then why not just switch around Arnold and Louis?"

"Because I MAKE GOOD DECISIONS!" the host screamed to the sky. Ellen cowered in fear next to Louis, who raised an eyebrow.

"Anyways..." Chris said, turning to the workers he called out earlier. "You eleven are now officially... the Killer Trash!"

Chef Hatchet half-heartedly tossed a rolled-up sheet of paper to Bastion, who unrolled it to reveal a light-red trash can, its lid slightly lifted to show two devilish eyes.

"That looks... ominous," Sammy commented. "Are you sure we can't have anything that doesn't look like we're a bunch of psychopaths?"

"Nope!" Chris replied cheerfully. "As for the rest of you...

"Topaz, Sheba, Arnold, Lucy, Zachary, Isaac, Largo, Meredith, Angela, Ron, and Reg! You are now... the Screaming Dumpsters!"

Chef tossed another rolled-up sheet, this one displaying a lime-green trash bin with what looks like a squid tentacle popping out of it.

"I see that the creative design budget was simply skyrocketing for this season," Zachary deadpanned. "Are you under contract to not use any other adjectives in fear of showing some originality?"

Chef Hatchet smacked the cynic across the face.

"Thank you, Chef. Now, as you probably guessed, these are where you'll be living. Guys get one house, girls get another, Dumpsters on the first floor, Trash on the second.

"Nearby, you'll also find one of our older Confession Cams, which we'll be using this season as a part of the network's 'go green' project," Chris announced.

* * *

**Confession Cam**

**Howie** - "Oh, goodnessh. It'sh... it'sh shpectacular! The very shame camera! There'sh where Duncan carved hish firsht shkull, there'sh the scrap from Lindshay's fashion magazine, and... wait for it...

/Howie takes a deep breath./

"Yesh! The shplendid aroma of Owen'sh flatulenche ish shtill here!"

/Howie's eyes grow wide with elation before he collapses from the fumes./

**Meredith** - "And so it begins. I must say that Chris did do some fairly solid work with arranging the teams. All that matters now is finding the best way to whittle down the workers. This is just a game, and I intend to prove it."

**Raphael** - "Huh. Guess you can go home again. This feels just like old times.

/Raphael digs through his pockets and pulls out what looks like a stopwatch and a coin. He promptly begins to flip the coin rapidly as he stares at the timepiece./

"Yeah... just like old times..."

* * *

"So now that we're settled in, it's challenge time!"

The workers groaned in annoyance.

"We haven't even gotten to unpack yet! Even in arranging a bed, perfection takes time," Bastion complained.

"Shouldn't we at least get something to eat first? I mean, we have a chef here, after all," Sheba said. Chef Hatchet beamed with pride.

"Yeah, give Sammy a break!" Foxglove concurred. Chef Hatchet's face immediately returned to its usual grumpy state.

"Well, tough. Your first challenge begins in two minutes, next to that tall tower over there."

As Chris finished his sentence, he gestured towards an extremely high platform rivaling the mighty Thousand-Foot Cliff, with what looked like a diving board on the top of it.

"Oh, that looks awful," Isaac whimpered.

"Ooh, that looks dangerous," Reg winced.

"Ha ha, that looks _awesome_!" Tom cheered.

* * *

As the workers moved over, several were having smaller discussions of their own.

"What do you think of the place so far, Jane?" Foxglove asked her friend.

"Hard to say. The people seem nice enough, but I think they'll be cutthroat when worst comes to worst," Jane signed.

"I hear that. But we're still playing fair, right?"

"We'd better. I don't want to lose my best friend over a competition."

Foxglove gave a slight chuckle. "Like so many others have?"

"I hear that!" Jane repeated with a smile.

A short distance away, Ellen squinted at the two, taking some notes on a pad of paper.

* * *

**Confession Cam**

**Ellen** - "Well, surprise of the day; I'm the same Ellen Monroe that's been heralded as the Reality Show Assassin, working for five-thousand per hit from the executives. You'd figure that these others would've heard of me by now! I guess that Howie kid has, but from what I can tell, he's just loopy, and probably thinks I'm some chick he saw at a coffee shop. But hey, if he can help, I might keep him close. It's all part of the job, isn't it?"

* * *

"Looks like your sketchwork is far from perfect."

Ellen jumped in fright as Bastion meandered closer to the assassin.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Hand me that sketchpad and let me show you a thing or two about a perfect illustration," the jock demanded.

"Leave me alone, please," Ellen responded, trying her best to remember what after-school specials had taught her about bullies.

"Look, sister, I'm not playing around here. You're hiding something, and I'm not lettin' any pigtailed misfit ruin my perfect game. So give me the damn paper."

Ellen stared at Bastion, then at the paper, then Bastion once more, before immediately tearing the sheet off and stuffing it in her mouth.

"Thew! Now you can't see anythngh!" Ellen spat as she tried to chew her notes.

Bastion cocked an eyebrow. "Clever girl. Don't get too comfy here, though; you mess up again, and I'll be givin' you a perfect elimination."

"I'ld like to see you twy!"

* * *

Meanwhile, the Screaming Dumpsters were making significantly less progress to their destination, mainly thanks to Lucy's insistence on being carried there by the other members.

"Move those pathetic legs of yours, you hideous snots!" the dominatrix commanded with another crack of her whip. "I've seen more effort from my past seventeen slaves combined!"

"Did she just say 'slaves'?" Topaz asked Zachary. The two were carrying a large makeshift lift; while they carried the front, Ron and Reg held up the back.

"I don't think you've been given permission to speak, you forlorn sludge!" Lucy shouted. "Another word out of you, and you'll be eating whip for dinner!"

"Hey, it's better than whatever Chef could deal out," Topaz countered before getting a lash to the back.

"I admire your bravery about as much as I admire her word choice; noteworthy, but still pretty damn stupid," Zachary commented with a content smirk.

"Oh, shut it," his partner in carrying muttered. "Was the only reason you decided to do this so you could mock me?"

"I admit, it has its perks," the slumdog said. "But I really did want to help you. After all, you're dealing with a psycho, and at least here I'll be farther away from the Super Mafia Brothers."

"Ron and Reg, you mean?"

"Do I look like I have the time to come up with names for people?"

Topaz shook her head, not in reply but in mild disgust. "At least make yourself useful and see if we've got everybody."

Zachary spun around and did a quick head-count before realization struck.

"Aw, damn it, we've only got ten."

"Who are we missing?" Topaz asked.

"Looks like... that other crazy girl. The one with the parlor tricks."

"Angela?" the tomboy guessed. "What's she doing?"

"If I knew that, we wouldn't be wondering where the hell she was," Zachary whispered to himself. "Look, go get that one kinda crazy kid to help you out."

Topaz rolled her eyes. "Yeah, 'cause that totally narrows things down."

"The mousy one who's been talking to himself ever since we got here," the slumdog spat out, clearly exasperated. "And before you ask, I mean the one that's on our team."

"Isaac..." Topaz mumbled. "Sure, send him up. Just find Angela, all right?"

Zachary gave a grunt before dashing off behind him, tossing a gesture towards Isaac, who was still wringing his hands. The cynic jogged for a few brief moments before finding Angela, who was sitting in a meditative pose.

"Look, Yogi Bare, you know damn well that this is a competition," Zachary near-shouted. "So if you don't want an all-express pass to wherever the hell eliminated contestants go this season, you'd better get your ass up to the rest of us!"

"Who are you talking to?"

Zachary looked around. Though he clearly heard Angela speak, she was no longer in front of him. He turned around to see her underneath Lucy's lift, assisting in supporting the dominatrix.

"Damn it..." Zachary growled before dashing back to his teammates.

By the time Zachary had reached the rest of the Screaming Dumpsters, they had made it to their final destination. The ladder and diving board they knew about, but what caught the attention of the workers was the large wooden tub filled with scrap metal, though a faint glint of shiny new material could be seen when the sunlight hit it in the right angle; considering the fact that this was televised, it did so a lot more than you'd expect.

"Welcome to your first challenge, a little something I like to call the Dumpster Dive," Chris introduced with an evil chuckle. "It's pretty simple, since I know you guys must be tuckered out. Just climb the ladder and dive down into the metal below where you'll have one minute to search for one of twenty-two tokens with my handsome face on it. The team who gets the most tokens wins; if there's a tie, we'll give it to whoever had the most divers instead. Sound good?"

"No. No, it's not. Not a dumpster," Isaac chattered, pointing at the nearby trash. "Not genuine. No logos, no lid. Why would you call it what it's not. Not a dumpster."

Chris frowned. "Sound good to everyone who isn't genuinely insane?"

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Lorelei asked from within her capsule. "I can barely move in this thing, and now you're expecting me to jump. No wonder you got me for this show; you just wanted another person to tease for the sake of your ratings. You sicken me."

"Hey, now, that's not why we chose you, that's why we chose Howie," Chris explained; the superfan seemed surprisingly unfazed. "And if you're incapable of jumping, that's too bad, but it also means you won't be getting a point for your team. Now then, Dumpsters, since this is your namesake you're diving into, you guys can go first."

"Isn't. Isn't one. Isn't a dumpster," Isaac breathed to himself, restraining himself from grasping onto his head.

"In line, you valueless slag!" Lucy ordered. "Those bitches couldn't jump from a foot-high post, so this shouldn't be a problem at all for you!"

"If that's the case, why don't you do it?" Arnold retorted. "After all, you're so intent on being a leader. Why not set a good example?"

The pyrotechnician was answered with a swift series of lashes from a near-frothing Lucy.

"Never, _never_ talk back to me, you decrepit toad!" Lucy roared. "You are not just a bitch, but a subordinate bitch! You're jumping first as punishment!"

"Sounds good to me. Of course the results might be quite... explosive."

A few of the more pun-weary contestants sighed.

* * *

**Confession Cam**

**Sammy** - "I still can't believe I'm contractually obligated to turn my passion into a joke. I went on this show to get enough money to start my own restaurant, but at this rate it'll just be a third-rate joint where drunks want me to say a crappy joke. Of course, something tells me that'll happen for whoever wins this show regardless, but that's besides the point. /Sammy chuckles./ See, I can joke; just don't make food the subject, and I'll be fine."

* * *

After Arnold ascended the ladder, he once again snapped his fingers. Curiously, the inevitable explosion occurred directly below the tub, leading to the garbage flying into the air. Arnold stuck out his hand to catch the first object to have a glint of gold before descending, token in hand.

"And Arnold gets the first token for the Dumpsters!" Chris announced.

"Whoa, what the hell was that? He didn't even jump!" Bastion countered.

"Hey, he took a drop and he got the token. Give the kid credit for coming up with such a clever loophole," the host said. "Who's jumpin' next?"

"Um... excuse me..."

Chris shifted his gaze; Largo had somehow sneaked away from the rest of the group.

"Is... is anything rusted? I'm... fragile... when it comes to things like these..."

Chris gave a genuine (albeit diabolical) laugh before answering with a flat "yes". Largo's eyebrows skyrocketed as she cowered in fear once again.

"Hey, c'mon. He's just bluffing."

Largo peeked up once again. Sure enough, Franky was standing with a hand extended.

"Chris may be a masochist, but there's no way he'd kill us off. If there's one thing he hates, it's lawsuits," the youngest brother said with a half-chuckle. "So do your team proud and get that token. I know you can do it."

Largo gave the slightest hint of a smile as her face became a bright pink. "Th... thank you..." the wallflower whispered as she returned to where the Dumpsters cheered on a successful dive from Angela, who had acquired a token just as fast as Arnold had.

* * *

**Confession Cam**

**Franky** - "I'm gonna be honest, having Largo on the other team is kind of a blessing for me. Sure, we spend less time together, but I can still help her out while Ron and Reg think I'm helping them get a victory, since it's my 'duty as the youngest member' or whatever. I guess I can tolerate being treated like that, though. Worth it to see her smile."

**Ron** - "Franky's still makin' eyes at the quiet broad. I'm tellin' you, she adds up about as well as Reg does, and the poor sap is still convinced that two and two makes five. If she goes, though, Franky'll get his head in the game, and I can't have that when he can still win us challenges. Decisions, decisions..."

**Reg** - "The boss and Franky are on other teams, and that leaves me kinda stuck. I know the boss cares about the kid, but he'd never say so to anyone's face, and I know Franky kinda likes the boss, 'cause otherwise he wouldn't have agreed to go on the show. Gee, who woulda thought bein' the middle kid would be so hard?"

* * *

Now slightly more confident, Largo managed to ignore Lucy's angry cries ("This is treason, you disconsolate bug!") and gave a semi-delicate dive into the trash below. Her search for the token, while funny to the other contestants due to her precise and careful moving of the unwanted items, still proved successful as she claimed her prize within the time limit.

"Thrilling," Zachary grumbled as he stared at the ladder. "How much of this year's budget was spent on this again? Fifty percent?"

"Oh, just jump already," Topaz spat. The cynic rolled his eyes, but proceeded to climb up.

"You seem to be very dominating. Very powerful. Not sure if it's to hide your true feelings or not but it's certainly present."

Topaz turned around. Sure enough, there stood Isaac, wearing a very weak grin.

"Um... thank you, I suppose," the tomboy replied with a large degree of uncertainty.

"Not a complement, just a comment. Large difference, mainly three letters."

Topaz blinked. "Isaac, are you... uh..."

"A what? Your word may only begin with one of twenty-one letters, or twenty if you consider the letter "y" a vowel which it only is in certain situations, so it would be twenty-one. I have a dictionary somewhere. Somewhere nearby," Isaac continued his rambling as he began to search for the aforementioned tome. "Start with 'B', and proceed onwards..."

"Isaac!"

The mousy boy stopped in his tracks.

"Please... you don't have to do that, all right? I just wanted to put it delicately."

"I doubt you would be able to. After showing your preference to control, it would continue. Carry on. Can't be delicate. Delicacy is lady-like. You're not a lady."

One extremely loud slap to the face later, Topaz climbed up the ladder, following Zachary's success of another token.

"Smooth moves, mouse boy," the slumdog deadpanned.

"Not a mouse... not a mouse... not a yard..." Isaac murmured before collapsing face-first into the ground.

"No sleeping on the job, you languid monad! You're diving just like all the other bitches!"

"Lucy, he's collapsed," Sheba said, pacing forward. "Maybe you should just admit that not everybody can dive."

"What are you suggesting, bitch?" Lucy growled as Topaz passed by, token in hand. "Do you not care for what awaits those who don't do their part?"

"Oh no, a whip," Sheba said with heavy sarcasm. "It's not like I've been lashed before in the orphanage."

Lucy responded with a lashing of her own. Much to the dominatrix's surprise, though, Sheba barely flinched.

"Your wristwork is lacking at best," the orphan quipped. "Now if you excuse me, I'm going to be tending to his wounds. And you can count me out of the challenge, by the way; I'm unfit to climb."

With a small wave of her makeshift cane, Sheba limped over to wear the fainted Isaac lay, and produced from her tunic an adhesive bandage and an ice bag.

* * *

**Confession Cam**

**Sheba** - "If there's one think I've learned from life in the orphanage, it's to always come prepared with some medical supplies. Sure, I nabbed 'em before I got to the competition, but karma dictates that it's all right if it's in case of an emergency. And when your teammate suffers a bitch-slap that painful, I'm pretty sure that's when duty calls."

* * *

Ron and Reg took their dives one after the other, and easily succeeded thanks to their smaller sizes.

"Looks like you're the last one," Lucy said as she faced Meredith. "Since I have a bit of respect for you, I'll just let you jump before those other fools go."

"You're kidding, right?" Meredith asked; despite maintaining her stoicism for the most part, she couldn't help but cross her arms. "For a so-called leader, you certainly haven't been doing your fair share. Why can't you jump as well and do your part?"

"Do my part? I've _done_ my part, you doddering tomtit!" Lucy retorted.

"Are these even words anymore?" Arnold asked, though he was ignored.

"I've lead you bitches to victory so far! That alone constitutes a greater deal than the lot of you combined. And with your jump, we'll have eight tokens, which are eight more than they could even dream of collecting. Now unless you want me to whip that look off of that bitch face of yours, you'll _get up the goddamn ladder_ and _do your goddamn part_!"

Meredith blinked. "Anything else?"

"...No..."

"Very well."

With that, Meredith climbed up the ladder, made a very unenthusiastic jump, and collected her token as Lucy predicted.

"That's eight tokens for the Screaming Dumpsters. Killer Trash, that means there are fourteen tokens left, but you also have the advantage of having some of the excess moved out," Chris announced.

Indeed, the exterior of the tub was now coated in a thin layer of excess garbage from the shockwaves and frantic digging of the eight jumpers. A fly approached the mess before retreating and returning with a microscopic gas mask.

"So, who's going first?" Franky asked.

"DIBS! Ha ha, you snooze, you lose!" Tom bellowed. "Finally, time to see what the acclaimed Chris McLean can really do to a guy!"

With a speed that most everyone thought was impossible for the larger boy, Tom moved up the ladder several rungs at a time.

"Looks like he means business," Jane commented. "Does he have some sort of a death wish?"

"I doubt it," Foxglove answered. "There's a difference between being suicidal and a daredevil, after all. I'm just worried about what he'll lead _me_ into."

Jane politely smiled, being unable to laugh at her friend's joke.

From atop the diving board, Tom's larger weight combined with his newfound acceleration gave a bigger shockwave of garbage from his landing. Among the excess trash was, surprisingly enough, a red rubber ball, which landed with severe force on the ground before bouncing directly into Raphael's face.

* * *

**Confession Cam**

**Raphael** - /The veteran holds an ice pack to his left eye, his glasses removed./

"Yep. Just like old times, all right."

* * *

"Oh my gosh!" Sammy cried, rushing to the nerd's side. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, don't mind me," Raphael responded. "I guess you could call that karma, in a sense."

"Heh heh... my apologies," Tom said; the daredevil had retrieved his token successfully. "Sometimes I can be a bit much."

"Nah, it's all right, trust me," Raphael said, extending his hand. "Accidents are accidents; I know that as well as anybody else."

Of course, it was during the friendly handshake that Raphael's thick spectacles split cleanly in two, falling off of his face.

"...Well, now I'm angry," Raphael admitted.

"We can't give up now, though!" Ellen spoke up. "Lorelei can't dive in her condition, but we still need eight more tokens to win!"

"Not nechessharily," Howie interrupted. "Remember Chrish'sh rulesh? If we have more diversh, even if we get the shame number of tokensh, victory will shtill be oursh!"

"Yeah, but who's gonna jump next?" Franky asked, before noticing Louis emerging from the tub, token in hand.

"Looks like that answers that question..." Foxglove trailed off.

* * *

**Confession Cam**

**Louis** - /The jazzman shakes his head in disbelief before playing the first few bars of "The Invisible Man"./

* * *

"Mind if I go?" Raphael questioned. "I kinda want to get this out of the way."

"In a hurry to fetch the duct tape?" Bastion mocked.

"Not entirely. I'm mainly doing this because I know Chris will probably want to save me for last to build up drama. The whole 'is he better than he was' schtick, y'know. I figure if I go third, I'll be able to mess with him a bit."

"You do realize that I'm still here, right?" Chris asked, tapping his foot.

"But of course!" Raphael responded. "That's the other reason I'm doing this!"

The host seethed as the veteran climbed up the ladder. Unfortunately, due to his lack of eyesight, he came out tokenless.

"Freaking coattails got caught on the side," he muttered to himself.

"I'll handle this!" Jane signed with a wink before climbing up.

* * *

**Confession Cam**

**Foxglove** - "Jane and I make a pretty good team, if you ask me. She's got some book smarts, I've got some street smarts. She's sweet as a candy bar, I'm a bit more rough. But more than anything, I admire her for her willingness to do anything. Her muteness isn't a crutch as much as it is an incentive to prove her worth, and that brings about a lot of respect."

**Jane** - "I'm incredibly lucky to have a friend like Foxglove, and I love her dearly. And while I still want to be friends with her, I want Total Drama to help me connect with other people. That's not to say she's just gonna be my translator or anything, but... well, she's not gonna be around forever. When that time comes, I want to be able to do this on my own, but for now... well, baby steps."

* * *

Jane did as she promised, collecting her token with relative ease. Foxglove followed suit, also retrieving her token.

"Finally, my firsht Total Drama challenge ish about to commenche," Howie said, his voice trembling with either fear or excitement. "A thousand-foot dive into a shtack of dishgushting shtuff that fillsh the heart with dread... I can't wait!"

Following in the footsteps of Tom, Howie scampered up to his destination. Unfortunately, his excitement got the better of him as he tripped over the diving board, landing directly on his crotch as he hit the tub.

The inevitable cries of "OOOOH!" did not do much to heal Howie's wounds, and he came out tokenless for it.

"God, you guys are pathetic," Bastion griped. "How do you mess up _jumping_? Seriously, it's like I'm the only one with any perfection around here."

"Wanna put your money where your mouth is?" Ellen retorted, placing her fists on her hips.

Bastion smirked as he climbed up. Upon reaching the top, the athlete performed a ten-point swan dive into the garbage, followed by an instantaneous token collection.

"And that is how you do it perfectly," Bastion bragged. Ellen rolled her eyes.

Unbeknownst to both of them, however, Meredith had watched over the jump herself.

* * *

**Confession Cam**

**Meredith** - "Like all reality shows, the only way to win is to either make the strongest people on your side immediately, or eliminate them immediately. Since I can't control when Bastion will be voted off, I must ensure that he is an ally so that I may control the flow of both teams."

* * *

"Fine, so you can do a few tricks," Ellen conceded after her jump and token. "It still doesn't mean I like you."

"The feeling's mutual, girly," Bastion smirked. "How's that paper taste, anyways?"

Ellen crossed her fingers that Bastion would be up for assassination sooner than later.

"We missed three tokens so far," Sammy noted. "But if Franky and I can find ours, we'll win the challenge!"

"Don't get too confident," Franky replied. "Who knows how many tokens are left, after all."

Sammy gave a warm smile to the youngest brother. "Well, don't worry about me. If there's one thing every chef knows how to do, it's cleaning up messes!"

With that, the cook ascended the ladder and dived down. A maelstrom of garbage flew up as she searched for the elusive golden coin, which she managed to locate after removing half of the tub's contents.

"Hey, what are you trying to pull?" Ron shouted from the Dumpsters' side. "How the hell can you call that fair play?"

"Well, we did allow Arnold's little fireworks display, after all," Chris retorted. "Every good trick deserves another, though I admit I was more fond of yours; explosions do a lot more for ratings than garbage flying around."

"Good luck, Franky!" Sammy chirped.

"Yeah... yeah, luck," Franky gulped.

* * *

**Confession Cam**

**Franky** - "Okay, so I don't do heights very well. You try having a power-hungry older brother dangle you from a third story window and not feel the same."

* * *

"Remember, Franky, this is all you now," Raphael reminded as he searched for an adhesive for his broken glasses. "If you find the token, we win by a technicality. If not... well, life sucks."

"Your glasses are already broken, though," the youngest brother countered.

"Valid point. Life sucks more than usual, then."

Franky glanced at the diving board once again.

"Just do it, you pansy," Bastion heckled. "If your imperfect brothers can do it, why the hell can't you?"

Franky's expression lit up, and much to his own surprise, he began to climb the ladder.

After reaching the top, Franky looked down, and did a double-take. Closing his eyes, he stooped over, and dropped with all the grace of a football player.

Franky's eyes first glanced at the broken bottle he practically gouged them on, before they were redirected to the timer. Fifteen seconds left.

Fortunately, Sammy's cleanup routine had left the tub more navigatable, even in dire conditions. Twelve seconds.

Tuna can. Newspaper. Briefcase. Eight seconds. Marble. Ice cream cone. Six seconds. Disposable razor. Duck. Four seconds. Holy Grail. Token.

Token?

One second.

"Got it!"

Franky's hands clenched his well-earned prize, but all eyes were on Chris McLean, and his eyes were on the timer.

The seconds lasted for hours, until finally...

"THE KILLER TRASH WIN!"

Shouts of joy echoed through the junkyard as the team celebrated. Jane and Foxglove shared a friendly embrace, Tom and Howie pumped their fists in success, and even Bastion managed to give out a cheer. Only Raphael seemed to avoid the festivities, choosing instead to look at his stopwatch.

"That means Screaming Dumpsters, you'll be facing elimination later tonight. I'll see you then!"

* * *

Night fell quickly on the abandoned junkyard, and aside from the moonlight, the only light there was came from a solitary burning barrel in a corner of the worksite. There, on uncomfortable-looking folding chairs, sat the Screaming Dumpsters, though only one was really living up to that name.

"I hope you realize whose fault this is, you palsied greenhorns!" Lucy's voice filled the night air alongside the deafening sounds of a whip cracking repeatedly. "You bitches are all very lucky my license to kill has been revoked, or else this team would be made up of the one person who makes it a team in the first place!"

"Not a team, then. Not a te-" Isaac was interrupted by Reg's hand in front of his mouth, though it was uncertain if it was to maintain his safety or just to shut him up.

Shortly afterwards, Chris walked forward, holding a stack of envelopes.

"The junkyard is home to some of the hardest-working people in the world, and like all hard-working people, your pay does not reflect the effort that you gave," the host began, laughing sinisterly at his own cruel joke. "Each of these envelopes holds a paycheck, good for one Chris Dollar."

"Oh good, legal tender for the funny farm. Guess it'll be useful after the hell you're putting us through," Zachary deadpanned.

"I'll have you know that once Chris Dollars are accepted as legal tender, they will be worth five British pounds, which is a lot more than you'll ever have if you don't zip it!

"Now then, the following workers are safe. Ron, Reg!"

The brothers collected their payments.

"Topaz, Sheba, and Meredith!"

Topaz and Sheba exchanged a high-five; Meredith, predictably, did not.

"Arnold!"

The pyrotechnician collected his envelope, though he accidentally incinerated it with another snap of his fingers.

"Largo!"

Upon hearing her name, Largo cowered in fear. Chris rolled his eyes as he crumpled the envelope into a ball and flung it at her.

"Angel-" Chris did not finish, as the envelope was already in her hands.

"Um... okay, then. Zachary, you're also safe, though I'm not entirely happy about that."

The cynic flipped the host off, but collected his reward nonetheless.

"Now we have Isaac and Lucy left," Chris pointed out. "But let's face it, we all know who it's going to, and for my own safety, I'm not gonna prolong it. Isaac, you're safe, and Lucy, you're out of here!"

A soul-piercing roar interrupted the serene peace and quiet of the Canadian night. On nearby Camp Wawanakwa, a fierce bear reverted to the fetal position, sucking his thumb in fright.

"You're dead, ALL of you are dead, license be damned!" Lucy shrieked as she flailed her whip around. "I was the one leader you had, you vapid little shits! I'll rip your hearts out one by one! Live like a bitch, _DIE LIKE A BITCH_!"

"Yo, Chef!" the host cried out in fear. Chef Hatchet ran in, wielding a large burlap sack which he threw over the rampaging Lucy. The war veteran tore out a bit of a nearby fence and tied the bag shut before throwing it over his shoulder and placing it on a nearby conveyor belt. The muffled swears and grunts faded as the bag went out of sight.

"That's the Conveyor Belt of Losers," Chris explained. "I was gonna mention it earlier, but I didn't want to deal with Lucy longer than neccessary. And trust me when I say this time, you can't come back. Ever. Or else I would have to deal with a lot of angry parents and angrier lawyers. Thanks for knocking her out so early, workers. Now if you excuse me, I have to change my pants for strictly business reasons."

After the (comparative) calm returned to the junkyard, a majority of the twenty-one workers had gone to sleep after unpacking. Despite the living conditions being as crappy as ever, slumber was easy knowing that Lucy had left.

* * *

On the roof of the boy's shack, however, a silouette flipped a coin repeatedly, still gazing at the stopwatch he carried with him.

No one came to speak with him, if only because no one knew he was up there. Soon afterwards, though, the long day had taken its toll, and the lone worker moved to head to bed.

Before descending, the boy whispered a single word that was caught by a passing breeze, a word that meant a lot more to him than the other workers could imagine.

"Ashlynn..."

* * *

**Who voted for whom?  
**

**Zachary** - "I vote for Lucy. Sure, everyone here pretty much deserves to go home, but if she's so intent on leading, she'll have to learn the consequences as well.

**Arnold** - "Who's the crazy girl? Lucy? Yeah, I vote for her. She's more dangerous than I am, and I make stuff blow up."

**Largo** - "Um... well... I guess I vote for Lucy, but I'm scared that she'll hurt me if I do. Oh, I hope she doesn't see this..."

**Ron** - "I'm votin' for Lucy. Looks like Franky's given us a little gift, lettin' us get rid of her so quick."

**Reg** - "I vote what the boss votes!"

**Meredith** - "Lucy. That much power combined with that much recklessness could ruin my chances at proving my point."

**Sheba** - "I vote for Lucy, if only because I want to live to see tomorrow."

**Topaz** - "What are you, nuts? Of course I vote for Lucy! Sure, Zachary's a royal pain in the ass, and Isaac's more than a little weird, but at least neither of them have a freaking_ whip_!"

**Angela** - "Those who have noticed my lack of a presence are simply lacking in symmetry, which leads to a lack of meditation, which leads to a wasted life. My vote goes to Lucy, for there is no saving one who has thrown away balance."

**Isaac** - "Pushed in here, said to vote. Voting means elections, elections means whoever gets the most wins. It's a contest. Contests have winners. I'm in a contest. I want to be a winner. I vote for me.

**Chris** - "We kinda can't show Lucy's vote, since it contains a lot of language that we couldn't show on any television channel. Ever. She didn't even say who she's voting for, just that she's voting for 'the bitch'. We here at Total Drama respect the voters, and will find the person that such a term could most likely refer to so that a fair and honest vote may be had.

"...Oh, who am I kidding? Let's just say she voted for herself. Another vote for Lucy means I can enjoy my luxury home-away-from-home-away-from-home in peace! Screw you, you freak!"

**Lucy - Ten votes**

**Isaac - One vote**

**Eliminated: Lucy**

* * *

**Author's Note: I thank you for reading.**


End file.
